


Ithelan

by DyeingRoses



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Modern Character in Thedas, Trans Male Character, Will add tags as I go, probably, the slowest of burns ever, the whole inner circle - Freeform, this is the most self indulgent thing ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 13:25:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14935104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyeingRoses/pseuds/DyeingRoses
Summary: A struggling college student finds himself dropped in a dungeon in the thick of all things Inquisition with no memory of how he got there.  Now he has pointed ears and too many tattoos and maybe has the chance to help.  He has no idea what he's doing but he loves Thedas and maybe Thedas will love him too.





	Ithelan

Cold.

So cold.

Opening his eyes, he—name, what’s his name, why couldn’t he—fought against the light glaring in.  Shadows fell and hazy silhouettes marched in his direction.  Fingers creaked and chains shifted with a clang.  Chains?

“ _Don’t move_.” A voice hissed in his ear, syllables falling melodic.  Language?  Familiar, understandable.  Not English.  He craned his neck to see the speaker, wincing at the spark of pain blasting in his temples.  Pointed ears met his wary eyes, thick dark lines on tan skin.  Elf, his mind supplied and he bit back a groan.  What?  He couldn’t see the stranger’s face, but he knew tension, or at least he thought he did. 

A door slammed shut and he snapped his head back.  Dark stone, wet, frost clinging.  Slowly, he glanced around, eyeing the cell bars surrounding them on all sides—or at least the three he can see.  No windows—just the door behind him.  The light winked out with the door—no, green glow…behind him?  A crackle like fire on wood.

God, what the fuck was happening.  Dreaming?  He had to be dreaming.  Taking deep breaths in time with the footsteps growing ever closer, he closed his eyes, focusing.  Dreaming means he could wake up.  C’mon.  Years of lucid studies had to be worth something now when he needs it.  Wake up, wake up, wake up—

“————” Demanded a woman’s voice.  Familiar…person?  Language, what was that?

A subtle but painful jab to his back stopped him from saying anything.  Breathe.  This was a dream.  Damn, that hurt.

Things don’t hurt like that in dreams, his mind muttered.  Shut up.  Not the time.

He watched metal boots circle him, them—elf, what the _fuck_ —every step predatory.  Alright.  Not good.  Even for a dream.  Play along, try not to die, that’s how the story goes.  His dreams were vivid, sure, but not like this.  God.  God!  He vaguely heard the elf speak, plainly irritated.  Confused?  Maybe?  The wrenching of the chains broke his reverie.

A second woman’s voice broke through in that damnable language that he couldn’t under—

Cassandra?  A name.  A name.  Alright.  He could understand names.  Cassandra, did he know a Cassandra?  No.  No, he didn’t the only Cassandra he knew was in a game.  Well, at least he knew where his brain was dredging names from. 

The elf barked out a hoarse laugh, shocking his strained thoughts.  More words.  A name?  Leliana.

Oh for fuck’s sakes, that’s really rich, brain.  Dragon Age?  Really?

A rough hand shook his shoulder and his eyes flew open.  Boots—he snapped his gaze up and met Cassandra’s furious gaze.  Holy shit.  That’s—That’s her.  Alright.  Well rendered, too, not the oily game engine version.

She was saying something, wasn’t she?  Damn.  Fuck, what was the question?  He couldn’t understand, what the _fuck_.

“ _Don’t say anything_.” The elf snapped, and he blinked, looking over his shoulder.  Cassandra, or the image of her, said something no doubt suitably nasty.  Growling back, the elf kept speaking back in that weird tongue and he watched Cassandra frown out of the corner of his eye.

Leliana swept into view.  God, Leliana.  That was her alright.  He quailed under her brief gaze, struck with their piercing sight.  Shit.

Shit!

Wake up, man, c’mon.

Sighing, Cassandra motioned to the guards.  Steel creaking with every step, the four men stepped closer and for a split second, he wondered if this was where he died.  But instead he felt the manacles on his ankles weaken and slide off.  Judging from the near silent sigh of relief behind him, the same must have been done to the elf.

Dragged up to his wobbly feet, he squinted ahead as they were dragged out of the prison.  Blinding white met his gaze and his head throbbed.  Gritting his teeth against the pain, he waited until his sight returned and gasped.

Tents, people, snow, mountains.  It all stood there, suddenly filling his sight.  The few people mingling glanced—no, glared—in their direction and turned away.  Vaguely, he recognized that Cassandra was speaking again, mostly to the elf now.  In the daylight, he took a moment to peer at his chained companion and the simple leathers they wore.

Andruil, his mind quickly whispered as he took in the elf’s tattoos and piercing green blue eyes.  Piercing eyes that were shooting him a glare.  Right.  Great.  No one liked him here.  Not much different than real life, huh?

Cassandra pointed up to the sky, drawing his gaze…drawing his gaze to the massive green fuckshow that was the sky, what the _fuck_.  The Breach.  Thanks, brain.  Real helpful.  Glad to know the nerd in him was holding out strong.  Speaking of—

His gaze snapped to the elf just as the man yelled out in pain, dropping to a knee.  The elf’s left hand throbbed, green energy crackling.  Anchor.  Herald.  Inquisitor.

Mother _fucker_.

Instinctually, he stepped forward, reaching down with a roped hand to the elf.  That…that was something he needed to evaluate later.  Instincts, huh—he quickly stepped back as the elf shook the help off and stumbled back to a stand.  Stubborn arse.

Cassandra’s hands forced him forward.  She was talking again.  This time though, he let his thoughts bring up scripts and listened along.  If still unable to figure out the actual words.  The Breach.  Justinia.  Mages and templars.  The Conclave.  At the bridge, he eased his hands once freed, staring around uncomprehendingly at the icy hills.  Unreal.

Hah.  Wait, no, Frostbitten.  He bit back a snort.

Great.  Now he was laughing at stupid jokes.  God, what was happening to him?  This was too real of a dream.  It was starting to look more and more like it wasn’t and that—that was terrifying.

He didn’t get to say goodbye to his cat…

“------!!”

Oh _fuck_ —his stomach dropped to his feet and he hit ice.  OW. Ears ringing, he crawled back onto all fours, shaking his head.  What—hissing.  He barely looked up in time to see a monstrous _thing_ rise up from the ice.  Another!  Void filled its head and clawed arms swung at its side.

Shade.  Demon.

“ _No, no, no, absolutely not, what the fuck, no, no—”_ He scrambled back, kicking at the ice.  It screeched and dove after him. 

“ _ARE YOU INSANE?!”_   The elf shouted, crashing down on top of the beast and freshly acquired sword skewering its head in half.  He watched in horror as the thing crumbled into ooze and then to dust.

“ _I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming, god, no this isn’t real, fuck this, oh my god, fuck, fuck, fuck!_ ” Hyperventilating, he curled up against the rock, eyes wide and unseeing.  His chest buzzed, too warm, prickling, burning, not enough air, too much air.

SMACK.

He stared unblinking at the elf, his cheek smarting.

_Mahanon_.

“ _Get a GRIP!_ ” Mahanon grabbed him by the shoulders, hauling him to his feet.  Thrusting a long stick, maybe it was a staff in another life, into his hands, the Dalish glared daggers into him. “ _You’re not dreaming.  This is real.  Thedas.  Me.  You.  Do you understand?_ ”

“ _I don’t even know who I am—”_

Mahanon threw his sword on the ground and took his forgetful head in his hands. “ _Ithelan_.  _That is your name now_.”

The dust settled.  For a moment, everything slowed down and the name thundered in his—Ithelan’s—heart.  Mahanon’s hands were ice against his skin.  The anchor burned.

Ithelan.

**Author's Note:**

> ive been toying with this idea for awhile honestly. this and my Dirthamen fic that i keep putting off. and who cares! our world is all up on its head so why not do things that just make me smile and laugh even if its a trans oc insert into canon! i dont really expect anyone to read this story but kudos to those who do!
> 
> this is to make a little story of how a nobody can be a hero and be loved and if other people want to come along for the ride with me then all the better


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